


On the Heels of Rosy Hues

by CKBookish



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alfred is the best Grandpa you can't fight me on this, Damian Wayne Gets a Hug, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian loves his Grandpa 2020, Fluffy, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, YeetDC2020, implied depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26026012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CKBookish/pseuds/CKBookish
Summary: Damian rapped his knuckles hard on Grayson’s door again.  At this rate he was likely to bruise his fingers from hitting the hard wood.  “Grayson.  Lets go.”He waited, but no reply came from within the room.  Damian squared his shoulders ready to break down the door, just as Alfred came around the corner.“Master Damian, is that you making this racket?”Damian bristled indignantly.  He was not making a racket, he was doing his job.  Grayson was late.  He would miss breakfast and be late to work if he didn’t get up. “Grayson’s--”Alfred frowned and gently pulled Damian back from the door before pulling it open and slipping inside.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Comments: 60
Kudos: 457
Collections: Damian Loves His Grandpa Challenge 2020





	On the Heels of Rosy Hues

**Author's Note:**

> Gemini_Baby challenged us to write about Damian and his relationship with Alfred. So here on the day the DC made a mess one year ago, we are posting the love!
> 
> As always I love to hear from you. Comments and kudos brighten my day!

Concrete diversions and jungle saunters

Where do you go when the rosy hues are but a dim faded glow?

* * *

Damian rapped his knuckles hard on Grayson’s door again. At this rate he was likely to bruise his fingers from hitting the hard wood. “Grayson. Lets go.”

He waited, but no reply came from within the room. Damian squared his shoulders ready to break down the door, just as Alfred came around the corner. 

“Master Damian, is that you making this racket?”

Damian bristled indignantly. He was not making a racket, he was doing his job. Grayson was late. He would miss breakfast and be late to work if he didn’t get up. “Grayson’s--”

Alfred frowned and gently pulled Damian back from the door before pulling it open and slipping inside. 

The door clicked shut behind him, before Damian could follow. Quickly he pressed his ear up to the door.

He couldn’t make out what was said, but there was the distinct rumbling of voices on the other side. Grayson was indeed up and able to talk. So it was  _ Damian  _ he was ignoring. The rattling of the air conditioner drowned out the faint sounds of a whispered conversation and left Damian shivering in the hallway. 

He turned to leave when the door opened again. Damian hated how quickly he turned in excitement. Alfred looked more tired than he had been when he went in. 

“Master Dick isn’t feeling well and is staying home.”

Damian scowled up at Alfred. That was impossible Grayson had promised to take him out for lunch, he couldn’t be sick. “He can’t be so unwell as to miss work.” 

Alfred looked down at him with a sad smile. “I’m afraid he won’t be up to lunch. But I do need help with some errands, and-- if we’re lucky-- he will be up to joining us for tea tonight.”

Damian bit his lip. Grayson hadn’t ever backed out of a promise before. He must have done-- no that wasn’t right. Damian had done some very… unkind things before but Grayson hadn’t ever reacted like  _ this _ . Was he injured? Damian thought back to patrol but couldn’t think of any time when Batman might have been injured. 

“He’ll be fine, Master Damian. He just needs a bit of rest.” Alfred wrapped his arm around Damian’s shoulder and pulled him down the hall. His hand felt warm even through the fabric of Damian’s t-shirt. 

Damian and Alfred ate in uncomfortable silence. Damian kept glancing down the hall. Why wasn’t Grayson skipping over, singing some obnoxious song? He had complained loudly and constantly about how much Grayson disturbed the quiet of the morning, but now it was  _ too  _ silent. The only sounds were the scrap of his knife and fork on his plate, and Alfred’s tea cup clattering on it’s saucer. 

“Master Damian, it would be tremendous help if you would go with me to the store. We need more flour and eggs and I could use some help carrying it.”

He pretended not to notice Alfred’s glance towards the hallway. “Sure.”

So Damian found himself shuffled out of the penthouse with Alfred into the heat of Gotham’s summer air. Damian trailed morosely behind Alfred the whole way to the store and back. The walk did little to distract him from worrying about Grayson. After they unload groceries, cleaned the windows in the living room and dusted both the living room and home office, Damian found himself back at Grayson’s door. No sound came from within the room.  _ Was he sleeping _ ?

Alfred cleared his throat lightly startling Damian. 

“Master Damian it’s best we leave him to it. Now, I’ve been meaning to check out this nature reserve nearby for sometime. But I will need your help navigating, as I never can remember the way there.”

Damian frowned, his hand still on the handle of the door. “I suppose I could help you navigate, but should we tell Grayson where we’re going?”

“Oh no. He’ll be fine. We’ll probably be back before he wakes up.”

Damian reluctantly let go and followed the old butler. 

Alfred didn’t turn the air on in the car. He rolled down the windows slightly though, and fiddled with the radio for a bit. Damian found the heat and noise more comforting than he would admit. He normally teased Grayson for playing music in the car. He shook his head to clear his mind. He had a job to do.

He sat in the back of the town car with maps spread out in front of him. Damian had run complex communications and logistics for high stakes missions. A simple drive was nothing. This was easy. Yet Damian didn’t allow himself to relax. He poured his entire focus in mapping their route. He told Alfred each turn several minutes in advance and informed him of any necessary lane changes. 

Soon they left the city and New Jersey far behind. Buildings became fields and hills, which turned to forest and peaks. Damian guided Alfred all the way to the back roads of the foothills of Pennsylvania. 

Alfred nodded and thanked him generously each time Damian gave him an instruction. He never questioned a direction that Damian gave. He simply made the turn trusting Damian to get them where he had asked. 

Finally they pulled to a stop. They were in a small dirt parking lot with a single trail leading off from it. There was only enough space for seven cars. In the far corner Damian could just make out a sign. He squinted at it.

“Is this it?” Damian asked as he stretched, his muscles stiff after the hour and a half drive. He tumbled out of the car following Alfred quickly. With a quick glance back at the butler, he wandered over to read the sign. Alfred was busy rummaging in the car. The old wooden sign was weathered by years of harsh Pennsylvanian rain and snow. Second Mountain Hawk Watch, Damian reread the sign. That wasn’t the name of the place on the map. Maybe he had taken them to the wrong place. But  _ something  _ about the name seemed familiar, he just couldn’t place it. 

“Are you alright for a small walk, sir?” Alfred said softly as he pulled a tweet jacket over his white button down. Damian frowned. It was warm, why would he want a jacket in this heat? Damian raised his eyebrow when he saw Alfred pull one of Damian’s light jackets out as well.

“Sir?” Alfred was looking at him with a studious eye. It was the same look he gave when he suspected Grayson or him were hiding an injury from him. 

Damian nodded and turned back to the car. He leaned against it, waiting for Alfred to finish doing whatever he was fumbling with. 

It was humid here. He could hear water somewhere in the distance, a river perhaps.  _ Whatever  _ it was it was mixing with the August heat and making his shirt stick to his skin. Alfred walked around to the back of the car and began rummaging in the trunk. From it’s depths he pulled out two folding chairs, a Yeti box and a thermos. 

“Master Damian, if you would?” 

Damian quickly accepted the large cooler and thermos. They were much heavier than he expected. 

Alfred closed the trunk and locked the car with a click of his key fob. “Shall we?” He gestured with one of the folding chairs to the trail.

Damian nodded tentatively. He glanced at his wrist watch. They had been gone for nearly two hours. Would Grayson be awake now? Alfred had already begun the trek past the sign and to a mulch lined path. 

The path gave way to a narrow trail lined by thick trees. Vines, tall weeds and wild grasses grew up around the weathered walk. Damian and Alfred’s clothes brushed against bushes and flowering grasses as they went. The air was cooler under the shade of the oaks and deciduous trunks that stretched upwards, creating a canopy of patchwork greens. Alfred--still leading the way-- seemed oddly out of place in his light tweed jacket as they walked deeper into the wilds. 

Frogs and cicada’s sang out filling the air with constant-- but not unpleasant-- sounds. Every few moments a bird would call out and almost just as often another would reply. Damian lost track of how many turns and forks in the trail they went though. It seemed Alfred had some destination in mind, despite claiming to have never been here before. As they moved, the sounds of water grew louder. 

Damian was wondering just how much longer Alfred was wanting to walk when, finally, the narrow path they were on opened up onto a wide river. A wide rocky bank led to blue grey waters. Alfred, it seemed, sought to go no further. He stopped and looked out at the bank, his eyes scanning the waters for something. 

Damian looked too. Was there some wild animal that he needed to defend them from? Grayson had said there were wolves in these parts. Damian was fairly confident in his abilities to spot danger, and he found nothing. Alfred smiled, hefted the chairs up again and started down the bank. The click clack of small stones shifting under foot joined the singing of frogs and birds. Damian relaxed and began to inspect their surroundings in earnest. 

On the other side of the stream were lines of tall trees, and in the distance he could see two peaks shaped almost like camel humps poking out of the ground. Had they been here in the fall, Damian imagined it would look like a forest on fire.

Alfred began setting up the chairs he had been hauling through the woods, to face the river. Damian followed him hesitantly and set down the cooler and thermos. 

“Master Damian if you would pull out the sandwiches, I think now would be an excellent time for lunch.” Alfred busied himself arranging the chairs until he was satisfied with their angle to the view, and sat down. 

Damian shuffled over the rocks and sat in the chair left for him. He pried open the Yeti box and to his surprise found inside several sandwiches, bottles of water, fruit and even cheesecake. Damian glanced at the sandwiches and handed Alfred the one wrapped in beeswax cloth with the letter A printed on the fabric. Damian found his own wrap and pulled it open. Alfred was already digging into his tuna sandwich. Damian wrinkled his nose at the smell and turned to his cheese, onion and quorn sandwich. 

The two ate staring out at the waters in silence. Damian couldn’t help but enjoy the view. Every now and then a large bird could be seen swooping down and snatching a fish from the river below. Damian had only just begun to wish he had a pair of binoculars when Alfred pulled some from a bag Damian hadn’t noticed him carrying. 

“Thank you.” Damian hesitated as he took the sleek binoculars. They looked like an older version of something Batman used in his cowl. 

“I find that if I look just past that jetty over there--” Alfred pointed to the far side of the river. “I can often see a pair of bald eagles. There are also several songbirds that stay in these parts.” 

Damian let himself be guided by Alfred as they looked for various birds and nests. Damian had spotted several birds of prey, an oriole, cardinal, and several ospreys. Alfred every now and then would point out a particularly interesting bird, or plant he had spotted. Slowly the tension in Damian’s stomach eased and he was completely enraptured by his surroundings. 

After a while a chill crept over where they were sitting and Damian began to shiver. Alfred silently passed him the light jacket he had noticed him grabbing earlier. It was then that Damian realized the sun was hanging low in the sky. Its edge touched the tip of one of the distant peaks. Startled by this he glanced down at his wrist watch. It was nearly five. 

“Pennyworth?”

Alfred hummed as he pulled two cups out from the Yeti.

“Should we not be heading home?” Damian felt guilty for having forgotten about Grayson. Would he be alright when they returned?

“Oh no, if we leave now we’ll miss the best part.” Alfred poured piping hot cocoa from the thermos and passed a cup to Damian.

“But Grayson--”

“Master Dick will be fine. He just needed a quiet day.” Alfred smiled over at him, but he looked very tired at that moment.

“Why? What’s the matter with him?” Damian held his cup close to him, his hands sucking up it’s warmth.

“Nothing but a case of grief I’m afraid.” Alfred watched as a sharp shinned hawk gilded over them. 

“Grief?” Damian was lost. What did Grayson have to grieve-- Father had been gone for almost a year, his parents dead for almost a decade. 

“Sometimes it just takes you by surprise. Master Dick, tends to pretend not to notice it, but then I'm afraid it catches him off guard. Sadness is a difficult thing to hide from. It tends to not let you getaway until you’ve felt it fully, you see?”

Damian didn’t see. Not in the least. But then perhaps, he didn’t know what he was supposed to grieve. He hadn’t really known Father, when… Well he  _ would be  _ upset if Grayson died or Pennyworth for that matter. They were the only two people to treat him… like he wasn’t born to be some killing machine. They let him be anything he wanted. 

“Will, he be alright?” Damian wasn’t sure what he would do if he wasn’t. 

“Oh yes, I think so. Master Dick tends to land on his feet.” Alfred took a sip from his mug still staring out over the water. 

Damian tore his gaze from Alfred and watched the hawk with him. It was nice, the way the light would catch it’s feathers, Damian decided. He wondered if Grayson liked hawks. Maybe he would feel better if Damian drew him one. The view was worth capturing after all. He wished he had brought his sketchbook with him. He would have to take some pictures for later, but photos he always felt lacked a certain quality that live drawing allowed him to capture. Soon crickets joined the song of the forest. Alfred every now and then would tell Damian what bird he thought was singing, or point out a frog hopping past. They watched a pair of painted turtles swim to a log and soak in the last beams of light of the day.

When the sun sank half way behind the peak Alfred smiled and pointed to something just on the far side of the water. Two otters were floating together, chattering away. Damian smiled. They looked like they were holding hands. 

“Master Dick used to like to come and wait for them. When he and Master Bruce fought sometimes we would come out here. This of course was years ago. I wasn’t sure if they would still come to this spot.” Alfred looked fondly at the otters. 

Damian frowned. That was why the name of the park sounded familiar. Grayson must have mentioned it to him. Well the view was certainly worth the wait. The two of them sat watching the otters as they played on the far bank. They tossed each other pebbles and chased one another in and out of the water. 

When the sun sank behind the tallest peak, Alfred stood slowly stretching. “Well, Master Damian, I think it is high time we head home-- least we be eaten by mosquitoes.”

Damian stood with him and moved to pack the Yeti cooler for Alfred. They worked next to each other in a companionable silence. The trek back to the car was much quicker than the trip out had seemed. Before he knew it Alfred was stowing their things in the trunk and sliding behind the wheel once more. 

“Would you like me to navigate back?” Damian asked as he bucked his seat-belt in the back seat. 

“That would be most helpful, sir.” Alfred once again allowed Damian to instruct their route and meticulously thanked Damian for all his instructions. 

When they pulled into the parking garage Damian was nervous again. Would Grayson be up and feeling better? 

Alfred whistled lightly as they made their way through the building lobby and into the elevator. The ride up to the penthouse seemed agonizingly long. Damian jumped when a light hand fell on his shoulder. 

Alfred squeezed it gently. “Don’t worry. Master Dick will be fine. He always is.” 

“What do we do if he’s not?” Damian leaned into his touch just slightly. His mother would scold him for such neediness. 

“We carry on being kind.” Alfred’s mustache wobbled slightly.

Damian was suddenly dreading arriving at their floor.

The elevator dinged and the door slid open. The light sounds of a trumpet filled the room from what was no doubt Grayson’s portable Bose speaker. Damian felt Alfred relax next to him. The smell of onions and garlic was wafting from the kitchen into the foyer. Damian felt his stomach rumble at the smell. But the  _ best  _ thing wasn’t the music or the smell of cooking food-- Grayson was singing. 

It sounded like French, but Damian had yet to learn the language. Damian found himself running through the foyer and into the kitchen. Grayson stood with his back to him, stirring a wok filled with what looked like broccoli and carrots. He swayed, singing to the music with a spoon held aloft as Damian crashed into his back. 

“Hey!” Grayson twisted himself so that Damian was in front of him rather than behind. “How was your day?”

Grayson’s face was puffy and his eyes had dark circles under them, but he was smiling.

“Grayson, are you feeling…” Damian trailed off as Grayson stiffed. “I mean my day was very nice. We saw several birds that merited drawing. And we waited until your otters came out.”

Grayson’s eyebrows knit together in momentary confusion. “Hawk Watch?” 

Damian nodded eagerly. 

“I’m surprised they’re still there.” Grayson smiled fondly, his eyes were glassy as if he had been transported to another time. A trumpet gave a particularly loud note and Grayson seemed to return to the present.

Damian watched him carefully, but Grayson was still smiling.

“I’m glad you had fun.” He said, pulling Damian tight once before letting him go. “Alfred, do you need a hand with that?” 

Damian spun and ran back to the old butler to relieve him from the heavy chairs and Yeti-- before Grayson could so much as step forward.

“Thank you.” Damian said as he quickly placed everything down on the island counter top. He hesitated for a moment, then decided to throw caution to the wind. He moved back to Pennyworth and quickly pulled him into a hug. 

Grayson stood with his jaw slightly agape. Damian felt a red flush creep up his neck. Grayson’s mouth snapped shut when he realized Damian had seen. 

“It was my pleasure, Master Damian.”

Grayson busied himself with the wok again.

“Maybe,” Damian glanced at Grayson quickly. He was still stirring. “If you wanted to, we could go again some other time. Maybe we could bring my sketchbook…” Damian trailed off as water gathered in the corners of Alfred’s eyes. 

“It would be my honor, sir.” Alfred smiled gently and brushed off his shoulders. “I had a wonderful time.”


End file.
